


but the truth is the stars are falling, ma

by littleghost



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Abuse, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-16
Updated: 2016-08-16
Packaged: 2018-08-09 01:57:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7782415
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littleghost/pseuds/littleghost
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Adam falls back onto the bed, springs squeaking. The church is lonely at night, with only him here.</p>
            </blockquote>





	but the truth is the stars are falling, ma

There are footsteps outside of his bedroom door. They are angry and loud, belonging to a man who is just as angry and loud. Adam’s hands clench the covers, threadbare and with holes. He waits, waits, waits for the door to open because that is inevitable, that is the end of every bedtime story of his life. 

His door opens with a bang and through the thunderous footsteps, he can hear the announcer on a rerun of a football game exclaim “—and they’re just past the thirty yard line—” but then Robert is in front of him, invading every sense. The smell of liquor on his breath, so tangible Adam can taste it, the sound of the man’s heavy breathing, the feel of calloused hands gripping Adam’s arms, the way the man’s blond hair flopped uselessly over his forehead, sticky with sweat, his blue eyes burning into Adam’s, unfocused and glazed over.

“C’mon, boy,” Robert says, “come watch some football with your old man.” It is just after midnight and Adam can feel tiredness seep into his bones, but he allows his dad to manhandle him into the living room. His dad’s favorite team is losing. Adam doesn’t know if his dad knows this is a rerun or not.

Robert  _ boo _ s at the screen, taking large swigs from the bottle. Adam tries to subtly scoot away, but there is a iron grip on his arm, fingers digging in, nerve endings lighting up with pain.

His dad looks at him, eyes more alert despite the fact that he had just drank another beer. “You don’t like football, son?” He questions. There’s a wicked curve to the set of his mouth, the one of a cat that’s trapped the mouse.

“Uh, yes, sir,” Adam stammers. His heart is a butterfly, beating its wings faster and faster.

“I know that, because any straight guy loves football. You ain’t no fag, are you?” 

Adam says, “No, sir, I’m not gay,” but his voice wavers and Robert sets in for the kill.

“You sure? Dave’s been spreading some rumours about you and some other boy. What’s his name? Scott? Jason? Which one was it? Or was it both?” Whatever he was looking for, he must have found it in Adam’s face, because he grinned, teeth on show.

He drags Adam up, hand digging deeper into his skin. He made a noise of pain, and his father’s reply was a scoff. “Stop being such a pussy,” he admonished. There is a fist raised in the air, and he closes his eyes, waiting for the hit.

His body hits the ground and he cries out, and Robert smiles at him, says, “You ain’t ever gon’ escape, boy,” and Adam is no longer twelve but twenty, cowering like he did when he was five. Robert raises his hand and it’s stuck in the downswing, and Adam wakes up.

His breathing is heavy, and his shirt is cold, stuck to his back. He peels it off, tossing it to his left. His eyes catch on the sliver of moonlight streaming in from the window. His heart is still pounding, echoing in his ears, a bass drum being hit again and again.

Adam falls back onto the bed, springs squeaking. The church is lonely at night, with only him here. Sometimes the organist comes in for a late night practice, the music drifting eerily through the still air.

It’s better when Ronan’s here. Ronan, who falls asleep to EBM playing in his ears, the sound just loud enough for Adam’s good ear to pick up. Ronan, who sits on the edge of his bed and does nothing until Adam falls back asleep, music still playing.

Sometimes he makes Ronan lie beside him, and they fall asleep on the same bed, beginning with each other on their back, and Adam waking up with Ronan’s arm over his waist, face buried in Adam’s pillow.

He tries not to think about it, after a while.

But Ronan isn’t here, and neither is the organist, and the only sound in his little apartment is his own breathing and his heartbeat thudding in his ears. Adam lies back down, closes his eyes, and tries to go to sleep.

(And when he dreams, it’s of Cabeswater and the Greywaren.)

**Author's Note:**

> title from [ease](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aAt1m1lQK3w) by troye sivan
> 
> prompt: lonely nights


End file.
